Companionship
by trufflemores
Summary: 5x17, "Opening Night" reaction fic. The origin of Bruce's reappearance in Kurt's life. Fluff fluff fluff. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Kurt knew that it would be an adjustment when Blaine moved out. There was no handbook about how to cope with the sudden and overwhelming freedom tempered by a deep, pervasive sense of loneliness that entered his life as soon as Blaine finished settling into Sam and Mercedes' apartment. He liked being able to take longer showers in the morning, to cook whatever struck his fancy for breakfast, and to spend more time reading through various fashion blogs uninterrupted, but he also missed having Blaine to compare ideas with, to make coffee for, to kiss and touch and spend time with. They still spent a healthy amount of time in each other's corners, catching up with each other's lives and _catching up _with each otherwhenever Rachel and Artie were away.

Even so, the nights were long in Kurt's apartment.

He wanted to say that everything was working out smoothly, and for the most part it was, but it was still surprisingly difficult to sleep without Blaine at his side. He missed having an arm to tuck around his shoulders and a chest to rest his cheek on. Even with the apartment's heater producing an almost stifling quality to the brisk April night air, Kurt missed having Blaine cuddled up at his side, running about as warm as a low-burning space heater on any given night and transferring all of his warmth to Kurt as time went on. Kurt had never been able to sleep well when it was too warm, and there had definitely been summer nights when he would have happily forsaken his fiancé's koala-like tendencies for a little space, but his bed felt inexplicably _empty _without Blaine in it.

On one particularly lonely, sleepless night he was tempted to ask Rachel if she wanted to join him. They'd had their fair share of sleepovers in high school, and Blaine and she were even roughly the same size. It didn't matter that they wouldn't be cuddled up close like Kurt always was when he was with Blaine; it would be comforting enough to just have someone _there_.

He was halfway to his feet and about to ask her, incoherent with fatigue and desperate for companionship, when he stubbed his toe on the chest poking up from underneath his bed.

Hissing softly in irritation as he sat back on the bed and cradled his aching foot, he glared at the chest and almost kicked it again before blinking in surprise when he realized that he didn't _have _to ask Rachel.

Even after spending weeks in the chest, Bruce was still just as soft and nonjudgmental as Kurt had remembered, fitting neatly into his palms before he tucked it over one shoulder. Eyelids fluttering shut in relief, he tucked his nose against the neat fold of Bruce's blue button-up and – paused, almost stricken, because it smelled stale and musty and not at all like Blaine.

Later, Kurt would justify in a grumble that it was four AM and he was _exhausted _and no one liked the smell of musty fabric, but in his heart he knew that he just ached for Blaine too much not to do it. Fishing out the mostly empty bottle of Marc Jacobs' cologne that Blaine liked to wear, he spritzed it on his own wrist one experimentally and breathed deep, sighing and spritzing Bruce three times before dropping the small bottle back into the drawer – and thank _God _Santana was still living with Brittany; he didn't even want to think about what she would make of the sound of fumbled bottles and other hushed noises late at night regardless of whether or not Blaine was around.

Carefully, Kurt tucked himself onto his side, leaving Bruce's arm over his shoulder and letting out a soft moan of appreciation as he finally found a comfortable position for his shoulders and neck and _head. _Bruce's chest didn't rise and fall with each breath like Blaine's would have, but it still squished pleasantly underneath Kurt's cheek as he rubbed his face against it, curled on his side like a cat and comfortable for the first time in days.

Muzzy with sleep, he didn't even care if Rachel walked in on him. He doubted that she was awake at all, listening to the silence like he was. She was too stressed about Fanny, and he was too stressed about Blaine, and both of those could be remedied soon because her opening night was in less than a month and Kurt would see Blaine in the morning.

But for now – without a Blaine and weeks away from _Funny Girl's _premiere – he had Bruce.

And sleep really was divine.


End file.
